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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29739477">The Goblin Market</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pdxtrent/pseuds/Pdxtrent'>Pdxtrent</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha &amp; Emissary Relationship(s) (Teen Wolf), Bargains, Fae &amp; Fairies, Fae Magic, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Liam Dunbar/Hayden Romero, Minor Peter Hale, Scott McCall &amp; Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Unintended Consequences, implied Malia Tate/Theo Raeken, minor Hayden Romero, minor Liam Dunbar - Freeform, minor malia tate - Freeform, minor theo raeken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:13:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,913</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29739477</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pdxtrent/pseuds/Pdxtrent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Bite, Derek always said, is a gift. But it never was for Scott because he had never wanted to be a werewolf. He thought it was a curse not a blessing, and the complications and difficulties it brought, he felt, outweighed anything good he gained. So Stiles had promised to never stop looking for a cure. He promised again after Scott became an Alpha, and then again after Gerard Argent was finally dead and Monroe was dealt with. </p><p>    After he left for college, after they finally found a way to depower the nemeton, Stiles still searched. Scott lost hope, and yet he kept looking. When Lydia began to help him with his research, they were able to delve deeper into possibility. Having a second pair of eyes, someone to bounce ideas off of reinvigorated his search. Deaton had always been unwilling to do more than say it was impossible, but Stiles knew there was a way, even if he was unwilling to follow Kate Argent's path into the darkest and bloodiest of magic. If there was one way, there had to be others.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Hale &amp; Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin &amp; Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall &amp; Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski &amp; Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>111</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Honestly I thought this was going to be a short 5k in and out story the other day because I’ve been trying to nail down the ending of Ashes and I needed a break from big stories for the day. </p><p>And then it grew and grew. </p><p>It is complete, parts 2 and 3 are in edits now, and will be up within a day or so. I do think it has some of my best writing in it. Especially the ending. I love the ending section.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    The Bite, Derek always said, is a gift. But it never was for Scott because he had never wanted to be a werewolf. He thought it was a curse not a blessing, and the complications and difficulties it brought, he felt, outweighed anything good he gained. So Stiles had promised to never stop looking for a cure. He promised again after Scott became an Alpha, and then again after Gerard Argent was finally dead and Monroe was dealt with. </p><p>    After he left for college, after they finally found a way to depower the nemeton, Stiles still searched. Scott lost hope, and yet he kept looking. When Lydia began to help him with his research, they were able to delve deeper into possibility. Having a second pair of eyes, someone to bounce ideas off of reinvigorated his search. Deaton had always been unwilling to do more than say it was impossible, but Stiles knew there was a way, even if he was unwilling to follow Kate Argent's path into the darkest and bloodiest of magic. If there was one way, there had to be others.</p><p>    They searched bestiaries and books stolen from a dozen hunter clans without any success or even a hint of a cure, before heading down the rabbit hole of magic both light and dark. And that was where the trail started to warm up because there were hints and rumors that other werewolves had broken what Scott still referred to as his curse. And since he had been bitten and not born, things were even more hopeful since it was universally agreed upon that a born wolf could not be changed to a human. Though Stiles never forgot a very human Derek Hale dying on a rock in Mexico, was inclined to still be deeply skeptical of that idea. However, La Iglesia remained the trail he refused to follow unless no other option was available; the potential dangers there outweighed even the persistent obligation he felt to help Scott. Maybe before Junior year he’d have run down that rabbit hole, but a cure that worked even on born wolves seemed too dangerous for the world, and he was glad Kate Argent was safely dead. </p><p>    None of the supposedly cured bitten wolves had ever written down <em> how </em> they were cured. It was a source of endless frustration for the two of them until just a few months before they graduated with their undergrad degrees, when Lydia pointed out that very consistent absence might in fact be a sign. </p><p>    They were finally on the right path Stiles decided, when he found a reference to 'worth the cost' in one of the supposed former werewolves journal, which was around the same time he and Lydia broke up amicably, the summer after graduation, and after Stiles had moved to Boston for grad school. They'd been on a slow downhill slide for over a year at that point, held together by the common interests and bond of the pack, along with their research. But besides fewer nights when Lydia came over to compare notes, as she eased into the dating world again, there were almost no changes to their relationship. </p><p>    The line from the journal shifted the direction of their research, because when it came to magic with costs the mind jumped immediately to the fae. </p><p>    And once they were on that trail the answers became clearer and clearer, though nothing had disappointed Stiles more than learning that the sidhe themselves were long gone. He'd envisioned fairy queens and courtly revels, and some sharp bargaining before or even afterward. But the Tuatha were gone, unable to flourish in the changing modern times they’d vanished into time and retreated beneath their hollow hills. It didn't surprise him though, there was no room in the world for magic like them, something that was inspiring as well as dangerous and terrifyingly beautiful. </p><p>    Only those of the lesser kindreds collectively known as the low or demi-fae remained in the world. Creatures that were of lesser magic, but closer to humanity because of it. They were the monsters of the fae world: goblins, kobolds, and the thousand other things from the darker corners of fear. Nightmares never go away, and the monsters are always waiting. Since they were tied to humans as predators, the ones that remained had thrived. </p><p>    When European colonists had first set blood-soaked hands to sweat-soaked sails and conquered the four corners of the world, the demi-fae had gone with them. A hidden diaspora followed after the human one like a shadow in the night. So every city now had its demi-fae population, pixies and goblins, and a thousand other creatures of the night, that mingled with similar predators around the world. And with the diaspora had followed the stories of the goblin markets. </p><p>    The stories say there is everything you could possibly desire there, but at a cost you might not be willing to pay. Those legends and stories are exaggerated and misleading, though the warning about the costs of things... Well, there was some truth to that. If you weren't careful it was very easy to pay far more than intended for what you want.</p><p>    Once they had settled on the goblin market, the research shifted. Details about the markets themselves emerged from rumors, and a plan started to take form. </p><p>    During grad school they slowly became experts on the mind-boggling variety of the demi-fae (a name that Stiles and Lydia were unsurprised to learn that <em> all </em> of the lesser kindred hated passionately) and also learned that there were other creatures of the fae that didn’t fit any of the neat categories of the kindreds. </p><p>    It was a contact of Peter's that loaned them the book where they learned that, in truth, there was only one goblin market, hidden away in the vast warrens of an ancient and subterranean goblin city with a thousand doorways leading to it from every major human city. The goblin market was in reality a series of different marketplaces, level after level, each more treacherous than the one before it, and most far too dangerous for any human, and many of the fae themselves. Wherever it really was, the unnamed goblin city was very old and very dangerous. </p><p>    They learned there were three rules that the wise visitor remembered when at the goblin market. First, and most importantly, accept nothing you haven't struck a bargain for already, and that nothing is free. The demi-fae, like their Tuathan relatives, delighted in tricking humans and enslaving them, but with the goblins, there was the added danger that they might just eat you instead of enslaving you.  Second, and most famously, never give them your true name. Nicknames were very useful in the Market. The third rule was less dire, but still filled with a thousand years of wisdom, and that was to never ever accept any of the demi-fae's first offer or you would pay far too much, and there was rarely any fixed connection between the actual value and the first price the goblins demanded. It was up to the buyer to strike the best deal they could. </p><p>    There's a reason it was called bargaining, after all. </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>    The hardest part was not going to be finding a way to get into the goblin market. The advantage to the goblin market, as opposed to the other options, is that goblins were among the demi-fae most receptive to human presence as guests in their world. Though it was imperative to keep in mind that the goblins were absolutely not to be trusted. </p><p>    The goblins still ate humans. </p><p>    The simple key to entry, as it happened, was something they already had. All the lesser kindreds of the fae and their guests were welcome at the goblin market. And the lesser kindred included an astonishing array of creatures, redcaps, selkies, brownies, and of course, banshees. </p><p>    "How can I be fae if my parents are human?" Lydia said, looking up from the book she'd just been reading.</p><p>    "Maybe like that book we were looking at last week said," Stiles replied, "the blood of the kindred is resilient, it can sleep for generations and then show up again." </p><p>    "Isn't that the one that claimed faery blood was a stain that could never be fully erased?" </p><p>    "That's the one," Stiles said. "It persists." </p><p>    "It made it sound like a curse," Lydia said, clearly annoyed with it all.</p><p>    "It was written by hunters, so you know, racist assholes," Stiles replied. "But the information in it all checked out against other sources, even if their perspective was skewed." </p><p>    "Speciest," Lydia replied absently, her eyes back on the page she was reading.</p><p>    "It's a point of view," Stiles said. "Are you a different species, or just a different subspecies? That there's no real genetic difference argues that werewolves and banshees aren't different species from humans." </p><p>    "And goblins?" Lydia said. "Or ogres, though no one has seen one for a decade." </p><p>    "No clue. But their basic hominid shape does sort of indicate some degree of relatedness." </p><p>    "If you imply I have ogre blood I am pretty sure this won't end well for you," Lydia said cooly looking back up from her book. </p><p>    "Of course not," Stiles said. "Though maybe some goblin blood is why Jackson went kanima instead of becoming a normal werewolf." </p><p>    "Charming theory," Lydia said flatly.</p><p>    "My point is," Stiles said, "the simplest solution is the easiest, you look human, you are human. The compass points are monster and not monster, which is way easier. The rest just hurts my brain." </p><p>    No, the problem wasn't going to be access, it was going to be payment. Because goblins don't take American Express, and the things they did take were things that most people cherished more than money. Someone's happiest memories. Another person's ability to dream. A firstborn child here and there. </p><p>    Rarity was key, and power a prize. So they took stock of what they were willing to part with and decided what to take with them before they headed to the section of Boston where the goblin market was reputed to be. </p><p>    Lydia knew the power of and value some placed on her screams. Valack had used one to free himself from one of the most secure supernatural prisons in the world after all. Banshees were rare, and even among them, Lydia's experiences had made her lethally powerful. Not being a supernatural, Stiles didn't have any inherent power to offer besides the not uncommon abilities of a spark, though he had accumulated some surprisingly rare books over the years. The first ones had come from the small library Jennifer Blake had in her apartment, which he'd thought to steal before anyone else got to them, volumes on the power of sacrifice and werewolf lore. Some of the books Peter had gifted him with over the years, and others he had stolen from various hunters who'd no doubt stolen them from previous victims. But books of human sorcery and knowledge were of limited interest to the demi-fae, and useful to them only in trading with humans. They had their own older and deeper sources of knowledge and magic. </p><p>    Some of the artifacts he'd acquired though had real value. He'd managed to track down part of the wood from the nemeton and had made it his mission to keep it secure, though he'd made sure that he had a few other secure little containers just in case one was ever needed to store away some other stray demon. Besides a peculiar oracular device he'd constructed, the boxes were the only use he'd put the wood to, so there was plenty left over. He was no fool, the wood of such an old sacred tree would be desirable to even the demi-fae. </p><p>    There were a few other assorted things, including a deeply worn and dinged knife of a strangely gold-toned copper alloy that he'd found among the relics and books being hoarded by a hunter family that had been causing trouble in the Boston area. While visiting Lydia one year for spring break, he'd helped a pack deal with the hunters and took the time to comb through their headquarters once the hunters themselves were dealt with. It's where the most recent bestiary in his collection had come from as well and the book on the demi-fae that so annoyed Lydia. </p><p>    He wasn't sure what it was, but there was a frisson of power and fear every time he picked the knife up and there was something about it that just seemed very old... and probably dangerous. </p><p>    He had stored the blade in one of the nemeton wood boxes where its strange aura wouldn't bother him, and hidden it away. At first, he'd meant to ask Peter about it and then had forgotten among the purely mundane horrors of finals week. Someday maybe he'd take the time to figure out what it was, but he had a dozen higher priorities. Perhaps it might have value to the goblins. </p><p>    He packed it without regret, along with a few of the nemeton wood containers he'd crafted over one laborious summer between his third and fourth years as an undergrad. He barely hesitated before packing a few of the rarer and more obscure books as well. Most of the best ones he'd made copies of over the years, which were the versions he and Lydia used for research which allowed them to make notes and reference other books right near the relevant text and were far less fragile. </p><p>    He wavered for a moment before he added a small glass bottle with a dozen precious seeds rattling inside, dark and shiny like tiny hardened raisins. They had been among the surprising finds when he'd helped Chris Argent take out a witch who'd gone very very bad just a few months before, and he wondered to what purpose she'd put them. He knew Chris had his own small stash as well, so they wouldn't be a total loss if they ended up being part of the final agreement.</p><p>    "Are you ready?" Lydia asked as he closed the top of his messenger bag, a sturdy leather number she'd bought him for his birthday one year and which had been useful a thousand times since. </p><p>    "Yeah, I think so. I wish I could guess what they'd find most interesting. How about you?" he said. </p><p>    "I have less potentially interesting things to offer," Lydia said. "I'm mostly hoping I'm even fae enough to get us access to the Market in the first place." </p><p>    Just after dark on a moonless night, they walked a few blocks from Lydia's near-campus apartment and turned down a particular alleyway, the location of which Stiles had managed to track down. They'd both been surprised to discover it was so close, but the deeper they researched, the more they learned that the demi-fae often found themselves drawn to areas near the doorways to the Market, creating a neighborhood where the fae were, if not common, less unusual. </p><p>    Stiles pulled out the instructions he'd printed, refamiliarizing himself with the description he was looking for. At night, the building they were looking for was easier to find than it had been when they'd walked down the alley during the day. </p><p>    "I see it," Lydia said in a surprised voice. "The gateway." </p><p>    Stiles looked up and saw only a dark and unnerving alleyway. "I don't see anything." </p><p>    "Well, apparently the book was right, and I am indeed fae enough," Lydia said. "There's a guard." </p><p>    "That's what the instructions say. Usually it's a troll." </p><p>    "Yes," she said simply, her eyes shining strangely in the light. "When I look at it, I can say that it is exactly what I think a troll should look like." </p><p>    She stopped him near a blank wall, and she faced towards it and said, "I would like entry to the Market for myself and my friend." </p><p>    A moment later there was a slight blurring effect, and the back of the building shifted, becoming ornate and strangely festive, instead of the blank wall it had been before. And yes, there was a creature guarding the gate, tall and heavily muscled with a hint of green color. There was something alien about it, that made Stiles think inhuman in a way that werewolves never had.  </p><p>    "Do you know the rules?" the troll said, its voice deep and slow. </p><p>    "Take nothing without paying—" Lydia started to say, and the Troll held up a hand. </p><p>    "The rules for the gate aren’t the rules of the Market or the bargain," the troll said. "First, you must depart by way of the door from which you arrived. Stay as long as you want, as long as you do that, it will be the morning after you leave when you return. If you don't, you are at the mercy of the doors, and they are never kind. Second, no bringing cold iron into the market under any circumstances, and third and most important, all deals of the Market are binding and final as soon as you exit the gate. Beware. Do you understand and agree to these rules?" </p><p>    They looked at each other, and almost as one they said, "I agree," and the troll swung the gate open and they stepped forward, into the Goblin Market.</p><p>*****</p><p>    Through the gate was only more darkness. Stiles glanced back once, the gate and the alley they'd left behind visible still, but receding step by step. </p><p>    They kept walking. </p><p>    Eventually he could see a light in the distance, and as they grew closer he realized it was a pair of lights. Soon enough he could see the faint outline of his hands and Lydia's features in the glow, which resolved itself as two lampposts, one on each side of a short bridge that arched over a slow-moving stream. </p><p>    The light was brighter after they stepped onto the bridge, and colors grew bold, distinct and bright. He could see it was painted a garish red and vivid blue, the balance of the color and shape just subtly off for human tastes. The area on the other side of the bridge looked as dark as the one they'd be leaving behind, and he glanced at Lydia, who didn't notice but seemed to be watching for something ahead in the darkness. He took a breath and stepped onto the bridge, and the world shifted again. Suddenly the other side of the bridge was a bewildering carnival of light and motion and sound. An assault on senses that had become used to the silence and darkness they'd walked through. </p><p>    Lydia was looking at him when he glanced at her this time, and she said, "Are you okay?" </p><p>    "Are you?" he asked. </p><p>    "Yes," she replied. "But this all seems familiar somehow." </p><p>    "What do you mean?" he said, unnerved by the shifting world around them. </p><p>    "I'm not sure," she said. "It just feels familiar." </p><p>    They crossed the bridge, and just before they stepped off it, Stiles pulled out a paint pen and made an inconspicuous dab on the side of the rail, because he'd read his fairytales and knew you had to stack the odds in your favor. Then they stepped off the bridge and as they did the world stabilized into a bewildering array of creatures and booths, with a signpost with arrows pointing each direction. To the right said, 'To Lose Your Mind', and to the left said, 'To Lose Your Life' and the way forward had, 'To Lose Your Heart' while the sign pointing back to the bridge said 'To Lose Your Way'. </p><p>    "Well," Stiles said, looking at the signpost, "That's not ominous at all. So do we pick heart, mind, or life?"</p><p>    "I have no interest in losing my mind again," Lydia said, her eyes flashing. </p><p>    "And I think I'm good with no one losing their lives," Stiles said. "So I guess the heart it is." They stepped forward, in the direction almost no one was going. </p><p>    He caught one of the goblins nearby looking at him before it realized he had noticed and looked away. </p><p>    "It's very strange," Lydia said after a moment. “This is like remembering a dream I haven't had yet," she said, "a memory of a place I've never been, but this is all the way I expect it to be somehow." </p><p>    "I feel like the books did not prepare us for it all that well, to be honest," Stiles said. "And now I'm wondering if we've made a terrible mistake." None of the booths looked likely, though they sold a bewildering array of items. A stand selling fruit that caught the light and nearly glowed next to what seemed to be a tiny antiquarian bookstore next to an old woman selling flowers made of crystal who was yelling at her assistant who was tied in place by a long thin chain. Across from them was a long booth selling a bewildering array of clothing, both faery and mundane. </p><p>    The latter caught Lydia's eye, "Oh, that's the new Prada bag I was looking at last week!" she said, her hand twitching toward it. </p><p>    "Goblin Market prices," Stiles reminded her, and she nodded. </p><p>    "It's still gorgeous," she said with a smile. </p><p>    They came to another intersection, this one marked 'Unrequited Passion' to the north, and 'Slow Burn' to the south, the way they’d come was marked ‘Darkest Desires’ and forward was marked 'Soul Mates'. </p><p>    "Absolutely not," Lydia murmured when she saw that last direction and steered him to the south. </p><p>    The booths here were different and seemed closer to what they wanted. A sign above one said, 'Darker Magicks,' next door to ‘Love Spells and Passion Powders for Every Species’ and another said 'Memories Lost and Changed' and above another was 'Curses Cast and Lifted.' </p><p>    "That one?" Stiles said, pointing it out and Lyda paused to look at it, and the small goblin man who was running it, greenish skin turning to brown and stretched tight over his body the signs of great age in goblins. He was reading a thick book behind a desk that nearly hid him, covered in books and scrolls and vials. </p><p>    They stepped forward and the man ignored them, his attention fixed on what he was reading. They waited patiently until he glanced up at them and didn't say anything. </p><p>    "Do you have a cure for lycanthropy?" Stiles asked. He knew to avoid phrases like ‘thank you’ and 'excuse me' that might imply any potential obligation. </p><p>    The man ignored him and looked at Lydia who took a moment to catch on. </p><p>    "We're looking to turn a bitten werewolf human again," she said. "Do you sell a cure for that?" </p><p>    He shook his head and turned his attention back to his book, ignoring them again. </p><p>    "Chilly," Stiles said as they continued down the row, past the 'Bewitching Cosmetics' booth, with its dizzying array of vials and powders. </p><p>    The signs on the next intersection were different. To the left was 'Flights of Fancy' The way they’d come was marked ‘Fire and Blood’ while forward was 'Moonlight Run' and to the right was 'Two if by Sea', and Lydia barely gave them more than a quick look before she ushered him forward.</p><p>    And there it was: 'Therianthrope Solutions.' The first booth on the right. </p><p>    The proprietor was hard to focus on for some reason, Stiles got the impression that they looked human for the most part, though almost impossibly thin with a suggestion of outsized and strange eyes that were completely dark from side to side. His mind groped to categorize the creature like he would something mundane but failed. He thought it was maybe a she. Or at least there was something that made him think ‘she’ at any rate, though his mind couldn’t place what. The maybe-she grew more difficult to categorize the closer he looked and the harder he tried to comprehend, and it took him several moments to learn to not see in a way that lessened the more disturbing elements. </p><p>    "Hello," the maybe-she said in a way that was more acknowledgement than greeting. </p><p>    Having learned his lesson from the last vendor, Stiles let Lydia talk, which also allowed him to not look too closely at the alien nature of the creature. </p><p>    "We're searching for a way to turn a bitten werewolf human again," Lydia said. "Is that something you sell?" </p><p>    The shop-person nodded. "Yes," the creature said, "and the price is quite reasonable today." Maybe-her mouth when it opened it was a nightmare of teeth, rows and rows, pointed and deadly like those of sharks and Stiles resisted the urge to shudder.</p><p>    "What would you like for it?" Lydia asked. </p><p>    "From you?" it said, "a small price. Almost nothing. Just your voice and all your memories from before you turned ten." </p><p>    The price was breathtakingly high, and Stiles bit back a gasp. </p><p>    But Lydia was ready, having read the same books Stiles had. "I might be convinced to pay the memory of a song I heard once and didn’t like, or one scream from my lips." </p><p>    "Hmmm," the strange creature said, lips thinning into an almost smile as it turned its face towards Stiles. "I suppose I might settle for your human friend, he looks like I could just eat him right up." </p><p>    The thing was, Stiles believed every word of that. There was something deeply terrifying about having those dark eyes turned on him. This was a predator, as he'd never thought any of the werewolves he’d encountered were, and he wondered if it was that the creature was so utterly alien that kept him from looking too closely, or if perhaps that aversion was part of its innate magic. </p><p>    "He has a book or two we might consider trading for your cure," Lydia said</p><p>    “I don’t have any interest in more dusty human books,” the uncanny creature said, almost bored. </p><p>"Well perhaps this will interest you." Lydia motioned at Stiles who fumbled for the box in his bag and pulled out the nemeton wood box which he opened to show off the dagger. </p><p>    The focus of the creature shifted toward the box, and it reached out a taloned hand almost reflexively. "Oh my," maybe-she whispered in a voice that sounded something like reverence. "Now this is a surprise. What a treasure. A sacred dagger made of orichalcum. Greek from before the worship of the Olympians," the creature said approvingly, pulling its hand back from the blade. "Still thick with blood and power and sacrifice. An impressive payment if we were bargaining for sacrifices. This is a real temptation." </p><p>    Stiles filed away the information. Orichalcum was familiar to him, a sort of sacred metal that held power better than anything but gold, but was stronger and better for use as a weapon. </p><p>    "Do we have a deal then?" Lydia asked. </p><p>    "Sadly no," the creature said with what sounded like genuine regret. "While it's a worthy price for many things, it’s not the right one, I think, for what you seek. But no more games from me, Wailing Woman, let's bargain truly." </p><p>    Stiles looked at the creature more closely, wondering if this was some new game or an actual drop of artifice. </p><p>    "I'm not sure what that means," Lydia said, looking at Stiles. </p><p>    "You seek a cure and your payment must reflect that," the creature said before Stiles could respond.</p><p>    "Wait, the payment needs to reflect the purchase?" Stiles interjected. “I didn’t catch that in the rules.” </p><p>    The creature turned back to him, "Delicious though you look, you are only a human, you cannot see what is in front of you, since blindness is your blessing and your curse. There is a rightness to maintain. The bargain must reflect rightness." </p><p>    Rightness. Stiles thought, then drifted back to the other line, ‘You seek a cure.’ </p><p>    He reached back into his bag and pulled out the tiny glass bottle with the dozen Golden Wolfsbane seeds rattling in the bottom. The rarest of all the wolfsbane varieties. The seeds had already been through a frost and were ready to grow. “A cure for a cure perhaps?” he said confidently. </p><p>    The creature's lips quirked into what might be a smile, "Or perhaps today is a day for surprises, my little snack. What do you have there?" </p><p>    "Golden Wolfsbane seeds," Stiles said. "Already quickened, ready to grow." </p><p>    "What a delightful little snack you are. Full of surprises," the creature said, looking at Lydia, "I see why you keep him." Maybe-she turned and selected a bottle as well, unmarked, but full of a dark syrupy green liquid which was set on the counter when it turned back around. </p><p>    "Do we have a deal then?" the creature asked Lydia. </p><p>    "How does this work?" Lydia said, pointing at the bottle on the counter. </p><p>    "To use it is simple, add some essence from your friend when they were still human. Hair or blood are most common, drop it into the mix, and when they drink it under the full moon while shifted, it will start to work." The creature handed over the vial full of the viscous green liquid. "The change will take as long as the transformation to werewolf in the first place. A matter of hours. Long before the sun can rise." </p><p>    "How long is the mixture stable?" Stiles asked, setting the bottle with the seeds next to the one with the cure, "Before it will no longer work?" </p><p>    "As long as it takes the golden wolfsbane to grow and blossom," it said, looking at the contents of the bottle. "Several months in your world at least since it grows so slow, perhaps a year, though I wouldn't push it that long unless you can't avoid it, sooner is best." </p><p>    Stiles knew Melissa had a lock of Scott's baby-hair in a locket in her jewelry box, which seemed to fit the requirements, and turned to Lydia who was watching him, and nodded slightly. </p><p>    "Then I think we have a bargain, as long as you include directions on how to get back out to the same gate we entered," Lydia said. </p><p>    The shark creature smiled widely, and bent closer towards Lydia, "Lovely and smart," it said, "what a remarkable combination. I must accept the bargain." The creature reached down and picked up the bottle with the seeds. "How lovely and rare," it said, holding the bottle close. </p><p>    Maybe-she turned back to Stiles and Lydia. "The way back is easy, do not retrace your steps, but follow the signs. Beware the fate you choose as you return as you did the one you picked as you arrived. Since there are two of you, one will bear the chosen fate coming, and one of you the chosen fate going." </p><p>    "Fates?" Stiles said, looking at Lydia.</p><p>    "The signs," Lydia said. "I read something in one of those books about them, but it wasn't very clear. I didn’t understand that it was important until I saw the first signpost. They're the Market's price for us coming. One of us will lose our heart to someone that runs under the moon." </p><p>    "A werewolf." </p><p>    "Yes. I think it’s me. I hadn't mentioned it to you yet, but I’ve been talking to Jackson for a month or so. He and Ethan broke up awhile back," Lydia said. "And I’m okay with this being my price." </p><p>    "Well, it'll be awkward if I'm the one that ends up with that fate," Stiles said. “I mean Jackson, ugh.” </p><p>    "Can we talk about this later?" Lydia said, giving him the look that said ‘not the place’ and finished with, "preferably in my apartment." She picked up the bottle of green liquid and nodded at the shark woman before they turned away and headed back to the intersection. </p><p>    The signs had changed, Stiles noticed, and now they read, 'To Lose a Home' to the right, forward was 'To Lose a Friend' to the left was 'To Lose Yourself' and behind them was 'To Lose It All.’ </p><p>    "Well, that's not ominous," Stiles said, looking at the last one. </p><p>    "None of them are good for you," she said looking at them, "but it's your turn to pick." </p><p>    He looked at the signs. Knowing what they meant he felt a weight to them, and it reminded him of what the shark creature had said, blindness was his blessing and his curse. </p><p>    "That way," he said, picking the only slightly acceptable option he had, his heart breaking a little as they turned right. </p><p>    The booths passed by as he grappled with what losing his home would mean. </p><p>    Would his apartment burn down? Eviction? Or did it mean <em> home </em> like Beacon Hills? His dad's house? What did home even mean in this context?</p><p>    The next interchange was no less dire. The sign to the left read 'Trial by Fire,' 'It All Falls Down' read the way forward, and 'Blood Sweat and Tears' to the left. The way behind them said 'Dead End'.</p><p>    "Why are these so much worse than the last ones?" Stiles said, looking at the signs. </p><p>    "I imagine it’s to pressure a mistake," Lydia said. "We've made it this far, you need to pick one." </p><p>    He pointed, "That way I guess," and they pressed forward into 'It All Falls Down.' </p><p>    The next ones said 'North' 'South' 'East' and 'West'. </p><p>    "The fuck?" he said and turned to Lydia, who was thinking carefully. </p><p>    "This is a trap," she said. "It's like—" She paused, "Oh, I think I have this." She pointed to 'West,’ "That one," she said, "we walked east into the gate, so west to leave it." </p><p>    The path curved away, but after a few steps they could see the edge of the market again, and soon they were back at the bridge. Stiles checked for his daub of paint and found it, and Lydia smiled at him. </p><p>    When they got across the bridge, the other side was different. Here it was a forest, lit up by a full moon, with paths like a spiderweb going off in all directions.</p><p>    "This isn't the way we came," he said. "We screwed up." </p><p>    "No, this is the right way," Lydia said, and pointed at the path in front of them. "I can feel it. That one." </p><p>    They walked under the trees, and all Stiles could think of was how he would lose his home. Surely it didn't mean he'd lose his father, did it?</p><p>    Lydia shifted them down another path after a few moments, following some instinct that Stiles was forced to trust.</p><p>    Finally, the trees above them darkened until they vanished, and there was just the darkness once again. </p><p>    The same troll was at the gate and swung it open for them, and they paused for a moment before they stepped back out of it and— </p><p> </p><p>                            — into the familiar alleyway near Lydia's apartment. </p><p>    The rest of the walk back was anticlimactic after that. </p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I mean, you know that thinking you got the better of a fae bargain is never going to work out for you right?</p><p>I need to acknowledge Catheryne Valente’s ‘The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making’ for not just the idea of the signposts in Fairy, but the very first set of signposts are the exact ones she used. When I was writing this all I could think was ‘those are the signposts I need’, so I borrowed them. </p><p>There’s also nods to ‘Stardust’ by Neil Gaiman and ‘Lud-In-The-Mist’ by Hope Mirrlees as well, two of the finest stories of a journey into the perilous realm I can think of. </p><p>Comments and kudos are appreciated.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  
</p><p>
  
  <span>"So Jackson," Stiles said, back at Lydia's apartment, as they relaxed with a celebratory glass of wine.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Are we really going to do this now?" she asked. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I'm just saying, I feel like rebounding with your ex after our break-up is something we should discuss," he said and laughed as she tossed a pillow at him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"You're terrible," she said, then added after a moment, "My god, did we really get in and out of there without it being a disaster?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Well, besides you being stuck with Jackson, and apparently I'm out of a home," Stiles said. "But at least those are manageable disasters unless the curse decides that means 'destroy Beacon Hills.’" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"It's not a curse," Lydia said. "It's—" she hesitated. "I understood this better while we were there than I do now, but it has to do with the nature of their world I think," Lydia said. “All that power is built from sacrifice and what you give up."</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"So you're not tempted to give up grad school and go live among the fae?" Stiles said. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Lydia laughed and said, "I doubt they have the Fields Medal there, and I'm not willing to give that up." Which set Stiles off on his own laughing. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Thank you," Stiles said after the laughing ended, "For doing this, for putting yourself in danger again for me. For Scott." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"For you," Lydia said. "This was all for you. I'm not even sure Scott is making the right decision. But I think he has a right to make that decision." She was quiet for a long time, "I'm not sure what it means for the betas though. Will there be a pack without an alpha? Are they omegas?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Scott says there will be. He says beta packs are a thing, especially when they're a family or a couple like Hayden and Liam. Coyotes aren't even truly pack animals, so Malia will be fine, and Theo has never even taken the bite, so he's not a real werewolf, all science, no magic."</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"And Derek?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Derek's never joined Scott's pack," Stiles said. "Apparently he still has bonds with Isaac and Jackson and that helps them all stay grounded, at least according to Isaac. I'm not sure he really wants anything more from a pack than to keep a continent and an ocean away." He intended to comment as a joke, but he could tell as he said it that it fell flat.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Lydia gave him a long incredulous look and he felt the whole atmosphere of the room change in a moment, "How can you still be so insensitive sometimes?" she finally said. "I don't know nearly as much about werewolves as you do, but I know people. Derek was born what he is. He was the middle child in a large werewolf family. I imagine he craves a pack far more than any of the bitten wolves do. Needs it in fact." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Then why didn't he join Scott's pack?" Stiles said. "He never even asked to." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I think you can answer that yourself if you spent some time thinking about what you know of him," Lydia said, giving him a disappointed look. "You've always done this. You're so busy looking at Scott and looking after Scott, that you ignore everyone else. I hoped finally solving this obsession of yours with finding the cure for Scott would break you out of it, but it hasn't at all. You'll figure out something else Scott needs to be happy for you to obsess over." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>She got up and put her wine glass in the kitchen, "I think you should actually stop thinking about Scott for a few hours and spend that time thinking about yourself for a change. Or if you can’t do that, spend some time thinking about Derek for once and maybe then his actions won't surprise you anymore. He's certainly never surprised me since his motivations are really transparent. And now I'm going to bed. I'll see you after I get some sleep, and you've had time to think." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Belatedly Stiles remembered that Lydia and Derek had become closer over the years since high school. Derek rarely visited when Stiles was there, but he knew the lone wolf was a regular visitor when he wasn't around. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He thought about going to apologize, but her bedroom door was closed, which he knew from their history meant she was done talking about it for the night. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The disagreement took more of the shine off of what they'd accomplished. He took out his phone and texted Scott that he had news, and would call later in the day, and then looked up flights to Beacon Hills in two weeks for the full moon. He'd taken three days off of work for the Goblin Market, so he had some time in case things went wrong. He checked a calendar to be sure of the day and saw the full moon was on a Sunday. Good, he'd only need to take the Monday after it off, and then it would be over.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He turned back over Lydia's words. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He knew what he was like, and knew that wasn't likely to change. He was just surprised that it was something Lydia thought needed to be changed. He’d never thought of his loyalty as a shortcoming. It made him so uncomfortable he let his thoughts shift to Derek. Stiles didn't think he'd overlooked Derek. Not really. Derek was just Derek. Absurdly attractive, but angry and standoffish. Even after La Iglesia, he'd ignore phone calls and text messages at a seeming whim. The tendency got more pronounced once Stiles managed to get his problems with the FBI dealt with (or more accurately, after he convinced Rafe McCall to do it, which was almost the same thing.) </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He'd even meant to call Derek on his birthday one year, except he'd ended up having a project due the next day, ended up getting distracted finishing it, and forgot about calling until a week later. When he finally called he had gotten the werewolf’s voicemail.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Then he realized that was what Lydia had meant when she said he looked past Derek. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>All of this. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek had been showing he was a friend all along. And sure he was surly and hard to get to know, but he'd risked his life to come back and help, and Stiles wasn't sure if he'd ever even thanked him. He'd almost died again saving Stiles' life during the final confrontation with Monroe, and Stiles had only seen him once afterward before leaving for George Washington.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He was pretty sure he thanked Derek for saving his life that time though. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Mostly sure.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he hadn't been anything like a friend to Derek, seeing him mostly as a means to an end.  Lydia was right, he'd always been so focused on Scott and Lydia he'd never made a place for anyone else and that Derek deserved more than that. Other people did too. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He grabbed a notepad and started writing. Creating a detailed plan for being a better friend to Derek. Thinking about Derek and what he knew was actually important to the werewolf, and realizing how little he actually knew the man. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>They'd been stuck in a bedroom together for two weeks, and he didn't even know what Derek liked to eat, just that he'd eat what you gave him without complaint. And what that indicated when Stiles thought about it was that there had been times when Derek didn't have the luxury of being picky about food. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He wrote that down and added a question mark to the end. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He thought about the week in January, and the week in December when Derek seemed to vanish. He wrote down that Derek had a hard time letting things go, and then crossed it out. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He wrote in, 'he feels his losses still' instead. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The more he wrote down, the more he began to think he'd be less uncomfortable if he had just seen Derek naked instead. Surely the wolf wouldn't want anyone to know even this much about him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The morning passed into the afternoon long before he was done. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Two weeks after they emerged from the Goblin Market, Stiles and Lydia arrived in Beacon Hills. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The sheriff picked them up at the airport, pulling Stiles into a hug and then reaching out and pulling Lydia in as well. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles knew Lydia had gotten used to his dad's tactile nature over the years they'd dated, but this was the first time they'd arrived together since the break-up, and he could feel her tense up for a moment as he first pulled her in, and then felt her relax into it. Apparently there wasn't going to be an awkward post-break-up reassessing of her place in his life for the sheriff. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>When he finally let them go and stepped back he gave them a critical look and said, "You both look tired. Grad school must be exhausting," and then herded them towards where he'd left the cruiser parked. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles had been vague with his father about why they were coming back. His dad had gotten more accepting of the strange and supernatural but Stiles did still try to keep him in the dark as much as possible, but he caught his dad giving him curious looks which he knew meant his dad planned to catch him alone and grill him so he prepared himself. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>They dropped Lydia off at the Martins’ and waited until she was inside before they pulled out. Stiles was almost counting down to the question he knew was coming, and his father didn't disappoint him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"So not that I'm not happy to see you," he said, "but I notice tomorrow is the full moon, and you said you're leaving again the next day. I don't think that's by chance." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"No," Stiles said, having decided he would tell his dad the truth, "No it's not. Lydia and I," he hesitated then went with the simplest answer and avoided the amount of danger he'd put into it, "we found a cure. For Scott." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"For the werewolf thing?" his dad said. "I thought that was just a myth." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Not just a myth," Stiles said. "I thought after what happened to Derek it had to be possible, so we've been looking. And we found it but it needs the full moon." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"This is what you've been doing lately," his dad said, "when you were being cagey." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Well, some of the time," Stiles admitted. "There's been other stuff." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"That's going to be a big change around here," his dad said, "Not having an alpha. Will the others be okay?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Scott says so," Stiles said. "I want to check with Derek about it, but he hasn't been responding to my texts or anything." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>His dad looked away and nodded, but didn't say anything. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"You know something," Stiles said, long familiar with his dad's evasiveness as the man was with his own. "Is he in trouble again?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"No," his dad said. "He was over for dinner a few nights ago, he seemed fine." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"No emergencies?" Stiles asked. "Not more untalkative than usual?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"He was in a good mood. We talked about the house, some work he's having done." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"What house?" Stiles said. "Isn't he still living in the loft?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>His dad turned and gave him an unreadable look. "He hasn't lived in that loft for years Stiles. Not since you were still in high school." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Oh," Stiles said, feeling more out of sorts, and he had the urge to pull out the notepad and add more notes like 'has random dinners with my dad' and 'apparently bought a house I've never heard of.' More and more he realized his dad and Lydia both knew a Derek that didn't fit with the one he remembered and it reinforced just what Lydia said, that he didn't know how to be a friend to anyone except Scott. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Son—" his dad started then stopped. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Yeah?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Nothing," his dad said and looked away again, and for the first time in a long time he felt like his father was disappointed in him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>His Jeep was in the driveway when he got home, and it looked, it looked better than he remembered to be honest. It had been waxed sometime recently and the piece of duct tape on the passenger windshield wiper was gone. He ran his fingers along the side as they walked past it, puzzled. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>His dad had to go to the station for a bit to finish and approve the week's overtime report for payroll, so he asked Stiles to go grab dinner for them both. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles grabbed the keys to the Jeep and followed his dad out, trying to decide what brand of nostalgia he was most in the mood for. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He was surprised when he pulled up and Rocco's Pizza was closed, but Mary's Diner was only a block away, so he walked down and through the door. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He wasn't even surprised to see Derek sitting in a booth alone. It felt like an inevitability at this point. He walked closer and stopped at Derek's table, and when the wolf looked up at him he asked tentatively if he could sit down. Derek nodded and gestured at the opposite side. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I tried to text you," Stiles said, trying to not make it sound like an accusation like it had so many times in the past. He wanted to try something new, to break out of the old pattern with Derek that hadn’t worked. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Yeah," Derek said. "I saw." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I realized—” Stiles hesitated, "well, Lydia pointed out that I'm sort of a shit friend." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek shrugged impassively and looked away. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"It may have also been pointed out that I don't really know how to be a friend," Stiles added. "And that felt—" he hesitated, "honestly it hurt a lot, but it's also true. It was just Scott and me for a long time, and even after it changed, I didn't ever really learn how it works you know? My friends were the pack, but that wasn't friendship, it was just survival." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek nodded. "And now we're alive," he said, "and on the other side of it all. You can figure out how to be friends with people you like." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I realized I don't actually know all that much about you," Stiles said. "Like, how fucked is it that I know you'll throw yourself between me and gunfire in a moment, but I don't know if you like Marvel movies or weird foreign films with subtitles and a desaturated palette." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"RomComs," Derek said with a deadpan face, "and slapstick comedy." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"See, something tells me you're jerking my chain," Stiles said. "Because I can totally see you watching 'The Emperor's New Clothes' without the subtitles because you speak French and like to feel superior about it." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>This surprised a real laugh out of Derek, and a slight blush to his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I knew it," Stiles said with a grin. "Desaturated foreign films it is. It's all the gray and black in your wardrobe—" Stiles paused, because Derek was wearing blue jeans and a plaid shirt today, not bright colors exactly, but they were colors. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I liked 'The Emperor's New Clothes,’" Derek said calmly, "and I did watch it without the subtitles." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I knew you spoke French," Stiles said smugly. "I remembered that. It was on my list." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"How?" Derek said. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Junior year," Stiles said. "Right before Isaac went missing. You were reading this old book in French, I can't remember the name though." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Bel-Ami," Derek said with a nod. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I meant to ask if it was good," Stiles said and meant it. Derek had been near the end, and then Isaac had gone missing, and the Alpha Pack came, and like so many times, life switched to survival at all costs.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"You either hate Duroy or understand him," Derek said. "Or understand him and still hate him." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"So he’s like Peter,” Stiles said. “Which is it for you?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Duroy? I understand him," Derek admitted, "and I pity him."</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles made a mental note to track the book down now. "Anyway, that's how I knew." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek nodded, and the waitress came over with his food, and Stiles took a minute to rattle off his and his dad's order to her, and she offered a Coke while he waited and he said yes. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"So why are you back?" Derek asked, the moment clearly passed.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I found the cure," Stiles said, "For Scott." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek nodded, his face unreadable.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Scott said the betas will be okay. Liam and Hayden will form a beta pack bond with each other. That most couples do. And Malia is a Coyote and doesn't really need a pack. And Theo isn't even a real werewolf." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek nodded. "Yeah. Scott and I talked about it years ago," Derek said. "He asked about it after La Iglesia." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I found a different way," Stiles said. "We did. Lydia and I." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"She told me," Derek said, his voice the impassive mask again. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"But what do you think about it?" Stiles asked. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"It's not any of my business," Derek said. "It's not my pack. The only one of you I ever see is Lydia unless there's a problem, and there hasn't been anything in years." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"You don't have an opinion on it?" Stiles said, thinking there was something he was missing.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek shrugged again. "The Bite is a gift Scott never wanted. This is both of your way out of it all. It makes sense." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles looked at him, confused. "This is about Scott," Stiles said. "I'm not getting out of this world." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"There's not going to be anything keeping you in it," Derek said. "You can go back to grad school. You'll meet someone mundane, keep drifting into the mundane world more and more." Derek looked away, "It's why you kept looking isn't it?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"No," Stiles said. "Not at all." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek turned back to look at him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I may not know you as well as I thought I did once Lydia kicked my ass, but you don't seem to know me all that well either," Stiles said. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I know what I am to you," Derek said with a fatalistic tone. "A necessary evil, maybe even an ally. I get it. I wasn't—" he shook his head, "I wasn't easy when we met. I wasn't good for a long time." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"No," Stiles said. "You’re wrong, you weren't a bad guy. Your heart was in the right place, just covered up by a lot of anger and the constant horror show of bad guys." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek shook his head, taking a bite of his food before he continued, "My heart was in a thousand pieces," he said. "It wasn't until Kate—" he made a bitter half-laugh, "though I'm sure she didn't intend it. But when I got my memories back, I didn't get the—'' he hesitated, "the trauma of it, I guess. I could remember everything, but like they were someone else's memories. It's why I was able to full shift once my healing got kick-started again." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I was so afraid that night," Stiles said. "I wanted to say goodbye, but I didn't know how. I thought that was the last I was going to see you, and then it was, but not the way I thought. You just left." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I was—" Derek hesitated, "my anchor didn't work anymore." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"The anger," Stiles said, knowing what Derek's anchor had been.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"No, I'd moved on from that already," Derek said. "For a little while it was my pack. It was why I needed to keep Isaac safe during the Alpha Pack. They were my weakness and my strength. Jackson was in London and safe, but Isaac was in danger, and he just wouldn't go." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"So you made him," Stiles said. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek nodded. "Afterward, after he left town, I was relieved. Both of them were safe, and far away. And I wasn’t an alpha anymore so my anchor was starting to drift again. But before I could figure it out, Kate took me, and when my memories came back, the pack as my anchor—" he hesitated, "It wouldn’t work anymore. So I had to go, I had to find something new. It took time." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>As Derek ate, he told Stiles about his time in the desert. At first finding his anchor, and then staying to find peace in the solitude and heat. Then he told him about spending days running in the Rockies learning the limits of the full shift, figuring out who he was without the guilt and anger that had defined him for so long, but no longer fit. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The waitress brought his food just as Derek was finishing up, and he handed her his card and she went to run it, and Derek let silence take over again. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"How did we get like this?" Stiles said finally asking the question at the bottom of them all. "We were friends, or whatever we were, and then we just weren't." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek gave him a long look, like he'd just watched Stiles kick a child or a kitten. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"What?" Stiles said.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I showed up," Derek said, "when I said I would. I showed up and your dad said you'd gone to Scott's to play video games." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles gave him a mystified look, "What are you talking about?" utterly confused but feeling like he'd finally found some secret key to what had gone wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"After I got shot," Derek said. "When you were burning the wolfsbane out of me." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles thought back to that horrible night. He remembered Derek saying something as he fumbled with the bullets, something about— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the memory hit him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"You said the last time you got shot to save someone you at least got a thank you dinner out of it," Stiles said, horrified to realize what he'd done so carelessly. "And I told you if you promised not to die I'd make you a steak bigger than your face next week."</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek jerked his head in a nod. "I thought—" he stopped and shook his head. "I thought we were friends. But you weren't there, and for video games. And you didn't call. Just left a week after that for school. I didn't even hear from you until you needed something about hags three months later and I just couldn't deal with it anymore." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I'm sorry," Stiles said and meant it. He felt truly terrible for what he'd done. "I got—" He shook his head, "No excuses, I fucked up. I didn't think you were serious. And I should have known better. I should have asked." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The waitress brought him his check and Derek's as well, and they were quiet for a moment as they signed them. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Would we have ever talked about this?" Stiles asked him clutching his bag of food, the sky darkening outside, "If I hadn't walked in there and seen you?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Probably not," Derek said. "So I'm glad we talked." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Would you let me try again?" Stiles asked. "To be friends?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"You're leaving on Monday," Derek said. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"There's Skype," Stiles said. "And you know, the phone. Even airplanes if we're feeling daring." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Why do you care?" Derek said, a tone of real curiosity and not confrontation in it. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Because when I think of who I want to be friends with, there's no one I think of before you," Stiles said. "Every time Lydia said you'd been to visit, I kept wondering why her and not me. I want to earn that kind of friendship with you, because while I know you're the guy who'll jump in between me and danger every time, whether it's a kanima, or a bullet, I know there’s more to you than that, but I don’t have the slightest idea what it is besides gloomy French movies and apparently an interest in home improvement. But I’d like a chance to find out what else.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek gave him a long look and then nodded. "Yeah," he said finally. "Yeah, we can try to be friends then." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"And if I read your gloomy French book and text you at 3am to tell you if I understand him or hate him?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I'll probably answer because it'll only be midnight here," Derek said as they slid out of the booth and headed for the door, leaving the receipts behind.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Okay then," Stiles said. "Do you—" he hesitated, "Do you want to be there tomorrow, for Scott's last werewolfiness?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek paused, the shadows of evening changing the familiar contours of Derek's face slightly, almost into someone Stiles didn't know, which seemed somehow fitting.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Do you want me to be there?" Derek said. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I don't know if it'll remind you—" Stiles paused, "of what she did." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"No," Derek said. "It won't." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Then yes," Stiles said. "One night. One last chance for it to be how it should have been. Without the hunters and Alpha Packs and kanima and Dread Doctors and all of it." He had a hard time keeping the bitterness over it all out of his voice. "I think about it that way sometimes," he admitted, and it was a truth he'd never told anyone, not even Lydia or Scott. "About how it could have been if none of it had happened." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Me too," Derek said. "But I think we have different places we think of when we think of none of it happening." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Yeah," Stiles said, realizing what Derek meant. "Do you think we would have met in that world?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"The world without Kate?" Derek said. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles liked that description, then added, "Or go big, a world without Gerard." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek tilted his head back and glanced at the stars. "Probably not," he said after a minute. "But who knows?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Maybe I'd have gotten caught trespassing either way," Stiles said. "Sneaking through the woods because I thought I heard a wolf howl in the night." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek laughed softly in the dark. "That does sound like you." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles shook the bag of food, "I should get this to my dad," he said. "I'll text you when we know where we're meeting." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Just come to the house," Derek said. "Tomorrow night. We can barbecue before the moon rises and all run out together, like one pack just this once." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I don't know even where your house is," Stiles said. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Your dad knows," Derek replied. "You should bring him with you." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I guess I could," Stiles said. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"We’ll get everyone together." Derek said, "I'll call Liam and see if they want to come. And Malia lives with me."</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Okay," Stiles said. "I'll bring dad, you bring the pack." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek nodded, and Stiles climbed into the Jeep, then raised his hand and waved a tentative goodbye before he pulled out, and Derek responded before he drove back towards the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Lydia called the next morning, her voice strained. "We may have made a mistake," she said as soon as he answered. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Lydia?" he said, still trying to wake up. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Of course," she said. "Calling to let you know one of the trees in the neighbors’ yard came down and destroyed the outside wall and one of the major supporting interior walls. The insurance adjuster just left, and they're going to recommend a complete rebuild." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Lose your home," Stiles said in a whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Lose your heart," Lydia replied. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"We had it backwards," she said. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He thought back to the night in the Market. "I chose first, I said 'I guess the heart it is.’"</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Oh Stiles," she said. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"No," he said, "This is okay. And I can be sure I'm not going to suddenly fall in love with Scott, since he's not going to be a werewolf after tonight, which is good, because that would be weird, and gross." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Slow burn," Lydia murmured. "That would fit." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Maybe it's Jackson," Stiles said. "He does love to say he's everyone's type." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Lydia laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"But seriously, are you guys going to be okay?" He asked, "We could clear out the spare room, and dad's office has—" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"No," Lydia said. "Though I did notice a Beacon County Sheriff's t-shirt in my mom's laundry. So I imagine she's going to be spending at least some time there." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Oh my god." Stiles said, "Our parents?!?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"The Stilinski men seem to find the Martin women attractive," Lydia said with a laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"They can't get married," Stiles said, with finality. "This is not West Virginia, I am not going to have slept with my sister." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Lydia laughed again and hung up, and Stiles rubbed the sleep from his eyes and staggered down the stairs to the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes I know, you saw that all coming. </p><p>Kudos and comments are appreciated.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>The texts flew through the day, and the size of the gathering grew. Besides Kira who was still with the skinwalkers, everyone would manage to be there. Even Theo, who Stiles could have done without ever seeing again. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Peter was surprisingly interested in the event, though Stiles suspected it had more to do with his strange fascination with the darker side of magic than any interest in Scott's impending return to being merely human. Or possibly it was a last vestige of his persistent belief that Scott wasn’t worthy.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Scott's new girlfriend, a human girl he'd been dating for a few months wasn't in the know about the pack yet, and Stiles wondered if she'd stick around when Scott didn't have the spark of something that set the werewolves apart. He found the phrase animal magnetism racist, or speciest or whatever they decided it was, but there was no denying that all of the born werewolves had a certain dangerous beauty, and bitten wolves had received an obvious glow up. Stiles assumed that appeal would fade with the rest of the werewolf package. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The pack seemed baffled by Scott's choice, Liam particularly, who had finally grown into the powerful beta Derek had first seen in him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles let his dad drive since he knew the way to Derek's and had said he wanted to see it for himself, and Stiles wondered what this meant for his father that he was so invested in seeing it through. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek's house was—  </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles didn't know what to think of it to be honest. Given the man's past he had vaguely expected either a replica of the old Hale House, or a gloomy stone fortress built with security in mind. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>But it wasn't either of those. Instead it was all glass windows and vaulted ceilings and skylights with hardwood floors and stone tile throughout. It felt like the outside was a continuation of the inside and it reminded Stiles of the desert in Mexico somehow. Full of light and warmth and an unexpected beauty. It reminded him once again how little he knew the werewolf, and made him curious what else there was to learn about the man. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He was standing in the living room, where the windows that went from the floor halfway to the ceiling had been slid open, and was admiring the view which covered some of the city in the distance and the river that created the boundary to the Preserve. He could hear the sounds of laughter from the party that was picking up steam on the other side of the house.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I haven't been here since he finished it," Melissa said, coming up beside him and he turned to look at her. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"It's beautiful," Stiles said. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"He said he wanted something that reminded him of the mountains and the desert," she said, taking a drink from the glass she carried. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I've never been to this part of the old property," Stiles said. "It's got to be about as far from the old house as you can get." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"It is. The Preserve is only a few hundred yards that way," she said pointing. "Scott says trying to get to the house from that direction is almost impossible though unless you're a werewolf." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles laughed, reassured that he hadn't completely misjudged Derek. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"There's security cameras around too," she said. "It's secure, but he didn't want it to be a bunker." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I love it," Stiles said. "I can't believe this is Beacon Hills." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I have what you asked for, but I wanted to talk to you first," Melissa said, her voice shifting to a more serious tone. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Sure," Stiles said, motioning towards the sofa.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>They sat and she looked at him closely before she said, "Are you sure this will work?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles nodded. "I am, yes," he said. "It wasn't easy. But we've been looking for years. I told Scott I'd keep looking when I left for school."</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I know, it just—" she shook her head. "All this supernatural stuff, it's taken a lot from him." The silent specter of Allison hung in the air, though neither one of them said the name.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"From all of us," Stiles said. He hesitated and then plunged forward, "But it's given us a lot too." He voiced something he'd been thinking for awhile, "It took me a long time to see it, especially after the Ghost Riders," he shivered a little just to say the name, "but the good and bad is all mixed together. I don't fault Scott for wanting this—" he tapped on the box he'd been carrying, "but I wouldn't give this all up either." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"But you found the cure," she said. "The one even Deaton said didn't exist." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Well, technically Deaton said it didn't exist in this world," Stiles said. "I don't think the fae are quite of this world." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"You've been a good friend to him," she said handing over the locket. "I'm glad he's had that." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles nodded, and bit back the response that by being that good friend to Scott he'd been a bad friend to everyone else more often than not. But that was his own realization, and not something he needed to burden Melissa with. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Thank you," she said, "for being that friend, and for finding this for him." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I promised I would," Stiles said simply, and climbed to his feet. "I saw you brought a friend with you," he added, "I didn't know you and Chris had broken up." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Almost a year ago," she said. "He's hunting again, and with Scott being—" she shook her head, "I just kept seeing his face on all of those other kids he went after." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I wondered if retirement would hold with him," Stiles said. "Scott was vague when I'd asked about him." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"They keep in touch," she said. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Still, that wasn't who I expected to see you arrive with," Stiles said, a grin on his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"It's nothing serious," she said, "but I find his strange sense of humor—" they were interrupted by the man himself coming into the room.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Bilinski!" he said, looking at Stiles. "I hear you're the reason for this party." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"No coach," Stiles said. "It's Scott's party, I just helped it happen." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Still," Coach said, "any excuse for a party. Don't forget there's school on Monday!" the man shouted, and headed towards the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"He does know we graduated right?" Stiles said to Melissa.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I'm never quite sure what he does know," she replied, "He's taken a few too many lacrosse balls to the head I think." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles nodded and they headed out the doors towards the party together, the sturdy box gripped tightly in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It was like old times, Stiles thought, as if Scott had shed much of the weight of worry that the alpha power had settled on him. But with the end in sight, the old Scott was re-emerging. He asked a million questions about the Goblin Market, and Stiles noticed a curious reluctance to discuss it. He found himself talking around the experience in strange ways. He caught Lydia's gaze on him as he talked and saw her nod. The Goblin Market protected it's secrets just like they'd thought.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The evening progressed and everyone ate too much, and the festive atmosphere grew and grew. He kept catching sight of Derek. At the grill, talking to his dad, or Lydia, and even Liam several times. But more, he kept catching the sound of the man's laughter, a sound he didn't think he'd heard until that very day. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It was a nice laugh, he caught himself thinking. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>And that's when it all tumbled together because Stiles wasn't an idiot after all. He could put two and two together. He could see the shape of things when he knew what pattern he was watching for. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Once he saw, it was impossible to unsee, and it twisted him up the more he thought about it. Stiles could see what was happening, How the Goblin Market's price was going to unfold, and it stole away the hesitant joy he'd started to feel because of all people, Derek didn't deserve to be the catspaw of the faery magic’s price. Not after Kate. Not after Jennifer. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek deserved something good. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It made him reassess the last few days, and he could see how the trajectory of things had been shifted. It had started with the comment from Lydia, one tiny shift in just the right time. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He apologized to Scott and said he needed a minute and stepped away, a familiar storm of fear and anxiety rising in him like it hadn't in years. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He could tell the attack was coming, and he barely made it into the quiet of the house away from everyone before it hit, and he slid down the wall, his chest tightening, overwhelmed by the downward pull of the anxiety attack. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on something besides the intensity of fear and the drumming of his heart. As he struggled to breathe, he could feel hands on him, and someone whispering words in his ear but he couldn't even focus on who it was that was talking to him. He focused on his breathing, forcing himself to take long deep breaths despite the vise his body had become, unmoored from anything but the inescapable sense of impending doom, whatever form it might take. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Finally after what felt like an hour but he knew was only a few minutes the feeling weakened and he was able to breathe normally again. The tide of fear shifted and his senses slowly returned to normal. He looked up to see who had been talking to him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It was Derek of course. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Better?" Derek said. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>No. Stiles thought, miserable under the weight of the werewolf's concern. But he said, "Yeah, a bit." He shook his head and took a breath. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Do you know what set that off?" Derek said. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Yeah," Stiles said. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Do you want to talk about it?" Derek asked.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"No," Stiles said, "But, I should." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Do you want your dad?" Derek asked. "Or Lydia?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"No," Stiles said. "It's—" he shook his head. "I need to talk to you. It's about—" he hesitated, could feel the reluctance to speak and the pressure of what he suspected was the Market's own inhibition that he'd noticed earlier, pushing him to not speak. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Is there somewhere no one can overhear us?" he finally asked. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek nodded. "Upstairs. I soundproofed the bedrooms and the library." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Okay," Stiles said, and levered himself to his feet.  </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles barely remembered climbing the stairs, but did notice the peaked roof of the hallway with more windows, there was more glass than solid wood between him and the sky, and in the dim light he could even see a few stars, since the moon hadn't risen yet.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Moonrise is still an hour away," Derek said, looking up when he noticed what Stiles was looking at. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"No, I just love this house," Stiles said, "It's so open and light. It's beautiful.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek smiled. "I saw a house when I was running in the mountains that was like this. Different layout. And they couldn't have the skylights and glass ceilings because of snow. But these huge walls of windows. No one was home, and I sort of broke in and wandered around, and it felt—" he shook his head slightly, "It felt welcoming but in a way that didn't feel like a reminder of anything. It wasn't like the old house, or even really like the loft even with all the windows. It just felt like a place that could be a home." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Of course you broke in," Stiles said, and the smile helped shake off more of the lingering effects of the anxiety attack. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek looked back at him, "It gets even better, I'd been running full shifted, so I was wandering the house without any clothes. I have no idea if they had security cameras, but if they did, they have a great story to tell about the naked man who broke into their house to wander around and look at their windows." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>This startled a full laugh out of Stiles, and he knew that was Derek's intent. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Thanks," Stiles said, as Derek steered him into a room off the hall that he could see was the library. There were few windows here, and they were covered by heavy curtains. He knew Derek took his books seriously, and Stiles had always approved of that about him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"More French novels about complicated people with dubious morals?" Stiles said looking around. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Absolutely," Derek said straightfaced. "And Spanish war novels. No Hemingway though." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"That surprises me," Stiles said. "His moody stoicism seems right up your alley." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek shrugged, "He's fine, but there never seems to be much hope in them." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles nodded, "Fair enough." He wandered over to the shelves and pulled a leatherbound copy of Vanity Fair off the shelf and paged into it, the familiar scent of the leather and old pages relaxing him further. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He closed the book and slipped it back into place and turned to Derek and said, "This is going to be hard to say. The Go—" he felt the words dry up on his tongue, unable to speak more. He closed his mouth and tried again. "The place we were," he was able to say, "it has rules. Prices." He paused, trying to pick around the topic. "There are unintended consequences." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He could see Derek's mind at work, and the werewolf surprised him when he said, “You can’t talk about it can you? What happened there.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles nodded, “Some things. But not the—” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“But not the price,” Derek said before he looked away nodding, "Lydia's house?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Part of it," Stiles said. "Half of it." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"So there's more to come," Derek said, watching him intently, and Stiles nodded, relieved. Apparently the prohibition was against speaking, not against acknowledging. "Something to do with you?" Derek asked. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles nodded again and said, "Different things. Different choices. We thought, the home thing—" he stopped and then said, "we thought that was for me. But it wasn't." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"So Lydia had picked something," Derek said, "but it'll be your loss." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles shook his head, and tried to answer, "Not mine." He tried to say 'yours' but his throat closed up. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek's face had shuttered. "Mine," he finally said, "It's me isn't it?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles nodded, and the look on Derek's face brought him to the verge of tears. "We thought Jackson—" Stiles got out before he was forced to stop speaking, but apparently Derek knew what Stiles hadn't about Lydia’s life.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Jackson and Lydia," he said. "Lydia thought she was going to lose Jackson again. She chose that." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"No," Stiles said. "She thought she'd gotten around it. Picked what she knew was coming anyway." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek looked at him confused, "I don't understand," he finally said. "If she wasn't going to lose him—” he stilled then looked at Stiles with an incredulous look, "she thought she was going to be bound to him," he whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles nodded, and scrubbed at his tears. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"You think the magic of the Market is going to make me fall in love with you," Derek said then added in a whisper, "You're upset that you're going to be stuck with me."</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"No!" Stiles said, and then in a rush, "You're going to be stuck with me." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Is this why—" Derek said, piecing things together, "this is why you stopped to talk to me yesterday." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Not intentionally," Stiles said miserably. "I think it was already shifting things. I didn't know until this morning. But then I heard you laugh, and I felt—" Stiles stopped, not the spell even this time, just the mortification of talking about his feelings. "I was just happy to hear it. I wanted to hear it again." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"So you didn't know who it would be," Derek said, piecing it together. "Is there a way to break the spell?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles shrugged, "I mean, it's the full power of that place, maybe all of Faerie, I don't know. We didn't even really know this was part of the cost." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"So you're stuck with me," Derek said, his face looked haunted, "Because of my feelings for you, because I fit your curse." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles was shaking his head already before Derek was finished, "No, those feelings, they're not real," he said. "It's just magic." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Your feelings you mean," Derek said. "Your feelings are magic." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"No, yours!" Stiles said, raising his voice a little. "You deserve to get someone awesome, someone good, not be stuck with me because of some stupid—" the inhibition hit him again and he let out an half-stifled shout. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Wait," Derek said, finally catching on. "You think it's going to make me fall in love with you. This isn't about your feelings." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Of course it's about your feelings!" Stiles said. "You were like my bisexual awakening in high school. Jesus dude, you walked out of the trees and growled out 'you tresspassing kids get out' and I was like, 'yeah, that’s it, definitely on the bisexual scale.'" Stiles said, wiping away the rest of his tears.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek started to smile, and then after a moment he actually laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"You think this is funny?" Stiles said, astonished. Laughter was the last emotion he'd expected. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Stiles, I've had feelings for you since—" he shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe the pool? Not love exactly, but I started to trust you," Derek said. "When I didn't trust anyone. After the fight with the alphas, I went to the school looking for you. I thought 'Stiles will help', it was all I could think of. That's when Jennifer found me, but I was looking for you." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles felt like he was suddenly standing there naked, a strange tangle of hope and fear knotting him inside. "So you—" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek continued, "I told you my anchor had changed after La Iglesia, when I went into the desert. It had been you, Isaac, and Jackson, but Kate messed that up, my memories came back, but not my emotional ties. Not my anchor. But when I was young, it was—" Derek shook his head. "Teenage me liked you so much he was stupid with it. He fell in love with you first, even before I had my memories back."</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Wait what?" Stiles said. "He slammed me into my door!" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek laughed, "You have no idea," he said, his smile incandescent, "He— I—" he looked up and away, and Stiles could see red tinting his ears, "he had no idea what to do with you." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I thought he hated me about half the time," Stiles said. "Which felt like an improvement over adult you at least." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"He wanted to throw you against your bed, not that door," Derek said, blushing more. "It's why I pulled away later. Things were already so complicated." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Oh my god," Stiles said. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"When I was in the desert, you were what I found," Derek said. "Everywhere I looked. It wasn’t just peace and healing. I found you. It wasn't about some grand revelation about my sexuality or something, most born wolves aren't too fixed on gender, but being young, not having that old context of antagonism, it made me see you different. See how you'd changed. When I saw you again in Virginia, I already knew." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"You knew what?" Stiles asked, his heart pounding in his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"That I—" Derek hesitated, "that I was interested. In you. But you were with Lydia by then, and I wasn't going to interfere with that. I knew you'd loved her forever. It's why I avoided you after that dinner thing. I was trying to get over it, over you. But there's just not that many people I trust, so it was hard to move on, especially since you were my anchor. Whatever else has gotten easier, trust is still hard for me." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"So you were in love with me already before the Goblin Market," Stiles said. "So this is real?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Yes. For me," Derek said. "Long before whatever the magic you can't tell me about, yes." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I hadn’t ever thought about being in love with you," Stiles said. "I didn't even like you for a long time. Then when I did like you, and did trust you, there was Malia, then you were gone, and suddenly there was Lydia—" he shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Whatever you decide—" Derek said as he shifted slightly away from Stiles, "whenever. Just know that it's about your feelings. Mine won't change anytime soon, and there's no weird faery magic at work there, just history." Derek turned and slipped out the door, and Stiles made his way to one of the large stuffed chairs and sank down into it. His mind was a whirr of everything Derek had said, the holdover stress and anxiety of the attack, and his own confused emotions and memories. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He tried to focus on one thing, and then another, but all he could focus on was that last part, 'whatever you decide. Whenever,' and all he could think of was his first response had been to say 'now' and 'yes.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>He wasn't sure how long he sat there, thinking about Derek, both the past and present. He finally shook his head and climbed to his feel and made his way back downstairs and outside. He passed his dad, who was talking to Melissa and Coach, and who caught his arm and asked quietly, "Are you okay?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles nodded, he was okay, whatever he decided and added honestly, "A little anxiety attack, probably just about finally processing everything." Which was true, and also very misleading but he wasn't ready to try to pantomime his way through another conversation about the prices they'd paid. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Though calling Derek a 'price' didn't seem right, it seemed like a reward of sorts. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The moon was brushing the horizon, and the pack was getting antsy. Peter had already pulled off the sweater he'd been wearing, and was in the process of taking off his loafers and socks. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek had disappeared again, and Stiles wondered if he'd gone to shift inside, away from the non-werewolves who might find the sudden nudity uncomfortable, especially Lydia's mom who had the least familiarity with the pack. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Are you going to run with them?" his dad asked.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles nodded, "Yeah," he said. It seemed fitting, that he'd been there for the beginning, and he should be there for the end. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It wasn't the first time Stiles had run with wolves during a full moon. It wasn't something Scott's pack had done often before things quieted down, but it was a common ritual in old established packs. Especially among born wolves. A way to bond the pack more closely together and feel a common purpose even if it was just to chase the moon across the sky. It was  a sort of magic that had nothing to do with sparks, but spoke to a deeper kind of mystery and connection to the world.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>As Stiles had made allies and friends in other packs, he'd been invited to join at times. Sometimes to celebrate a victory, and at others just as a way of showing they were trusted allies and friends. For the last few years he'd had a standing invite with one of the packs in Boston, a rare honor that said more clearly than anything that someone outside the pack was considered a deeply trusted ally. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It was an experience that never failed to humble him, though it had inspired him to take up running as a daily activity so he wouldn't embarrass himself and his pack. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>When he'd told Scott about it, the alpha had listened with that serious face that said he didn't quite understand, but was listening, and it had become a more common event when the other members of the pack were in town. Though Stiles knew Scott never ran down the moon when it was only himself. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Scott stepped up beside him and said, "Are you ready?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles looked at him, and the look of peaceful certainty on Scott's face made the last doubts drop away. This was truly what he wanted then, with no hesitation or regrets. Stiles nodded. "I'm ready," he said. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Derek came out of the house on four feet, his tail wagged once when he paused to look at Stiles then turned and soundlessly moved up behind Peter and licked the man once on the cheek before dashing away. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Malia came out then, already shifted, and was followed by Theo also in coyote form. She'd been late arriving since the barbecue was impromptu and she had plans already and he hadn't gotten a chance to talk to her. She moved off onto the lawn and stood near Derek, while Theo stayed on the deck, surrounded by other people. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles had never been able to forgive Theo's actions, though he knew Liam considered him a friend almost as close as Mason, and Scott frequently talked about Theo's progress in becoming more human.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Hayden and Liam were playing a sort of tag on the lawn already, periodic and playful growls and golden eyes could be seen and heard. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles looked around at Scott's pack and wondered if this was the last time they'd gather without the ephemeral threads of pack to call them to each other, or if those bonds would persist somehow. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles sighed and grabbed the box he'd carried on a plane across the country, ripped through the 'fragile' and 'biological sample' stickers that had gotten it onto the plane and pulled the bottle out. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The dark green color almost glowed in the moonlight, unnaturally so since it was so dark in even the brightest daylight. He pulled out the stopper and the air was flooded with a rich herbal scent he couldn't quite identify, not quite floral but close. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He set the bottle on the table, and carefully pried open Melissa's old locket and caught the tiny patch of hair in his fingers. He looked at her across the watching crowd and mouthed a thank you to her, and she smiled and nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He separated it into two parts, and carefully slipped half back into the locket just in case and closed it up, and then dropped the other half into the faery potion. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He wasn't sure what he'd expected to happen. Maybe a change in colors, or an explosion of foam, but there was nothing, only the hair disappearing improbably fast into the viscous liquid. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He caught Lydia's eyes watching, a knowing smile on her face. This had been his focus for so long, even more of a focus than his degree or his relationship with her, and it bothered him that he'd made her second place for so long, and that he hadn't thought of that until now. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He started to think If— but no, he wasn't going to think of Derek now. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He felt like he should say something to mark the occasion somehow, but he couldn't find the words. When the last of the hair had vanished, he looked back to Scott and said quietly, "I need you to shift for me." Scott nodded, letting the red bleed into his eyes as he shifted into the shape that was as familiar to Stiles as Scott’s human face for the last time. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He handed the bottle to Scott, and said, "I have no idea what this will taste like, but drink it all. I'm not sure what happens if you only drink half of it, maybe you become a half werewolf or something." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Scott laughed and took it and looked at Stiles, his emotions heavy in his face, "Thank you," he said, "I know this was harder than you're telling, I know how long you've looked. But thank you." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Because he was still emotional from the anxiety attack, Stiles felt tears spring into his eyes again, at least that was why he told himself they were there, though in the back of his head he heard a voice saying this was the end of an era. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Nothing changed when Scott drank the liquid, but he made a little face afterward and said, "It tastes fine, but it's got the consistency of cough syrup." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>There were a few laughs from around the deck, and then Scott turned to look up at the moon and nodded, as if in greeting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The alpha tipped back his head and howled, calling the pack to the chase, and took off toward the woods, moving at nothing like full speed.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles grabbed the second thing he'd brought with him and shoved it in his pocket just in case, and gave his dad a quick smile, when he saw the man nod at what he'd pocketed. Then he took off after Scott, the pack falling into place around him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He could hear Liam and Hayden laughing off to the side, and as the pack spread out through the trees he could see some of the others bathed in moonlight. Theo running as a coyote was a preference that had emerged gradually over the years, so when he caught sight of a black wolf running through the trees he knew it was Derek. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The pack ran.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Above them the moon watched, and Stiles wondered what she thought. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Time slipped away from him as they ran, Scott setting a pace that he knew from experience Stiles could maintain and the pack shifted positions around him as they broke off to pursue some scent or sound and returned to the run. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The black wolf stuck close by though, and Stiles wondered if Derek had always done that on those rare occasions he’d run down the moon with them, and Stiles had just never noticed. He made a note to ask him later. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>As he ran he could feel something in him loosening. Like an anchor that he'd never known existed. He wondered if that was the pack bond he had with Scott starting to fade. He'd heard human pack members didn't usually feel them the same way, but his spark had deepened his perceptions over the years, as he'd learned more and deeper magic, shifting him out of the purely mundane world more and more. He'd learned that was part of the reason many druids viewed magic as a line of last resort, since that shifting violated their views on the Sacred Balance.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>As his pack bond faded, he felt free. Like there were a million new choices that suddenly appeared where before there were only one or two. It was dizzying and exhilarating. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Then he felt something else shift inside of him, separate and different, like a second tether had come loose. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>As it fell away he felt like he was going to take flight. Like twin weights he’d never known about had been lifted. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The pack ran. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The moon watched, and Stiles was certain she must approve.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles lost track of anything but the running and the pack and the moon above calling them onward. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He barely noticed when he started leaning into his spark to keep going, a trick he'd learned from a witch emissary in one of the DC packs. He felt the fatigue melt away and the secondary effects of his magic kick in, the moon seemed brighter, and the world felt more real. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He caught sight of Malia chasing Theo through the trees, and wondered if there was something there. He wasn't sure how he felt about it if there was, but it didn't seem to matter the way it would have even that afternoon. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The pack ran, and Stiles ran with them. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The moon shifted across the sky almost imperceptibly slow but inexorable as well. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The change when it happened actually surprised him. He'd forgotten what they were together for, lost in the run and the moon and pull of his power. Around him he felt more than saw the pack shift, a swirl of confusion as they broke out of the loose formation they'd pulled into. Stiles slowed down, but tightened his grip on his spark, unsure what was going on. But when he burst through the trees to where the pack was slowly gathering he saw Scott on his knees, shaking and back in his human face a look of startlement on his face as he gasped for air. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>And Stiles realized what had happened. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Scott was having an asthma attack. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Because Scott was human. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles laughed as he pulled the inhaler he'd grabbed before he left from his pocket and held it out to his friend and watched the familiar and strange motions of Scott using it again. After a moment Scott got to his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I had forgotten about that," he said, lifting the inhaler and turning to Stiles, "But of course you didn’t, thank you." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"So it worked?" Stiles asked, though with his senses heightened by his spark he could already tell that Scott was fully human. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I think so," Scott said. "The power, the wolf, it's gone." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"We should get you back to the house then,” Stiles said, then looked around. “Any idea where the house is from here?" Stiles asked. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Yeah," Scott said with a laugh then turned to the pack and said with a giant grin, "Go on without me." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles didn't miss the double meaning of the words, though he suspected that Scott might have. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The pack, wolves and coyotes milled uncertainty, and several eyes turned to Stiles, most notably the bright blue eyes in black fur. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Go on," Stiles said, "I can get him back to the house." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The wolf stepped forward again, hesitated for a moment, and then whirled away. A moment later the wolf called the pack with a howl, and the pack answered. In moments they were gone, like they’d never been there, except for the fading sound of them moving away in the distance at a speed he could never match. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The pack ran on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Above them the moon watched, and whatever she thought of the night’s events, it was hidden away with her other secrets. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Scott laughed when Stiles had to pick the path back to the house. Scott knew the basic direction, but his eyesight was back to human normal, so under the trees Stiles' spark augmented sight was keener. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"So no regrets?" Stiles asked, because he'd never been good at not prodding at things. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"None," Scott said simply. "I know no one understands it. They've all asked me if I was sure, but this is what I've always wanted. A chance to just be normal. No werewolves or monsters or Dread Doctors or anything. Just a boring normal life." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"All that stuff is still out there," Stiles said. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Yeah, but it's not my world anymore," Scott said, then looked at Stiles. "You could get out too if you want." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles shrugged, "That's the difference I guess," he said as they walked. "I chose this. When you got bit, I ran right after you into all of this." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"No regrets?" Scott asked.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"A thousand," Stiles said, and Allison's name hovered between them unsaid, "But not being a part of this. I don’t regret trying to make a difference, or the lives we’ve saved." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I hated having people depend on me," Scott said. "I hated the feeling of failing them over and over." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I hate failing them too," Stiles said, "but who do I trust more than myself to try to save them?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Scott nodded, "Deaton isn't talking to me," he said. "He's furious that I did this. He says it's a waste of my potential." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Well, he's a former emissary again now," Stiles said, and Scott stopped and looked at him with the most bewildered look on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Deaton was never my emissary," Scott said. "Never." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"What?" Stiles said. "Then who was?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"You," Scott said like it was obvious. "It's always been you. You knew what I was before I did. You have guided and advised and yelled at me when I was being stupid every step of this path." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Me," Stiles said faintly. A hollowness inside him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Always," Scott said seriously. "You're my best friend, my brother. Who else would it be?" </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"I just always thought—" Stiles said, "I assumed it was Deaton." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"No," Scott said. "I mean, it's been helpful to have him around. I love the guy. But no. You basically chose it for yourself when you ran after me into all of this." </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The shift in his perception made a thousand things slip into place. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>There are very good reasons emissaries aren't part of the pack. The binding that develops between an alpha and an emissary is profound, but very different from the one between an alpha and even a human pack member. He'd had multiple emissaries tell him that. The witch emissary had even cattily said it was the only good idea that druids had ever brought to the practice of being an emissary with their emphasis on balance. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"Oh my god," Stiles said, feeling so dumb. He'd double bonded himself to Scott without meaning to. Before he even knew what it meant. The emissaries had all been warning him and he'd missed it entirely. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"You're an idiot," Scott said, missing the gravity of the situation, pulling him into a hug. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Stiles bit back the retort that he wasn't the only one, that bonding himself twice over to Scott had made his already strong devotion nearly absolute. Even if Scott had ever known, Stiles was sure he'd never thought through what it meant, or thought it didn't apply to Stiles.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He let it go. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He felt calm and at peace for the first time since— </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Honestly he didn't know when. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The future lay before him in all of its infinite potential. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>In the distance he saw the lights of Derek's house through the trees and as he walked he thought about tomorrow and above him the moon watched it all. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And there it is done. <br/>My 16,000 word 5,000 word story.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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